Talking and Awkwardness
by Allison Diamond
Summary: A half-drunk (or is it a pretend drunk Jackie) flirts with Eric who is an adorable and awkward mess.
**Disclaimer:** _I don't own That '70s Show or any of its characters_.

 **A/N:** _I've like three different incomplete fics with J &E (have been getting requests to write something else with these two ever since Sparks Fly, Sparks Vanish) sitting in my drive. But this just happened and I liked how it turned out. Not sure if Eric and Jackie are in character; haven't wrote for this fandom in a long time._

* * *

 ** _Talking and Awkwardness_**

"Another?"

Jackie stared at the tall, lean glass of whiskey, or scotch, or whatever it was, and just got lost in the warm, soothing voice addressing her. "I think I had enough." She chuckled lightly, treading her fingers on the cold, smooth wooden surface of the table. "Hey, Eric, you're kind of hot for a nerd."

"Uh, thanks?" Eric laughed and allowed Jackie to trace her fingers over his. "You're drunk," he said, taking her fingers off him, but that only made her move her free hand upper - all the way to his neck. "And a hot mess. Who'd have thought Jackie Burkhart can't hold her liquor?"

"I'm not drunk, Eric. Believe me, you don't to see me drunk." She continued moving her hand on his neck — leaving small, innocent touches. "I'm _just_ not a 100% percent sober."

Eric glanced at her and at where her hand was.

"Half-drunk, then?"

Jackie rolled her eyes.

"Can you get your half-drunk hand off my neck?"

Jackie laughed and moved her hand farther down, resting beneath the collar of his stripped shirt. "Why? Am I making you nervous? C'mon, Eric, they are just innocent touches between a guy and a girl."

He gulped. "No … but you shouldn't … touch …. behave like that." He can feel the color rushing to his cheeks and the hair standing up on his skin. "You've had too much to drink. Let's get you out of here before you turn into a utter bitch, well _much_ more bitchier than usual," he finished off and his voice returned to its normal, sarcastic level; no longer flushed or awkward.

Gosh, spending all this time with Jackie after the breakup, the job loss, was not _good_ for him. He didn't knew when the bitchy talks, playful banter, and normal conversations turned into something more. And he can't even control himself around her — playful touches between friends felt too intimate to him. That breakup with Donna had left him craving for attention and love; so much that he wanted Jackie's drunk touches to mean something.

"Oh, Eric, I won't be a bitch." Her eyes lit up with mischief, as she continued trailing her hand farther down until it reached his lap. "Well, _not_ a _total_ bitch."

"Yeah, can't let that happen. Too many _good_ people in here." He laughed nervously and hated how badly he wanted to wrap his hand around hers. Feel the warmth in those hands radiating to his. Instead, he snatched her hand away, picked up his coat, and placed an arm around her waist, leading her out of the door.

Jackie stopped, feet stuck to the floor. "No, c'mon, Eric, we don't need to leave. I'm not drunk. I just want to have some fun." _Please_ , her eyes begged _, stay_.

But he knew better. Drunk or not, he was leaving, and so was she. He had a feeling if he left her here alone, it would be a very bad idea.

"I can't. This bar can survive without us … without you."

He stared at her firmly and deeply. His gaze rested on her for a few extra seconds then he intended and he felt himself almost reaching out to touch her. But he stopped himself. This wasn't right — she was drunk and he was, well, starved for touch.

"Fine," she said, sighing a bit, "we will go. Can do without the drunks and the loners."

"They're not all _that_ bad. I like this bar."

"Of course, you do, Eric. You've an undeniable weird taste in everything. Comes with the dorkiness. Wouldn't make you Eric Forman without the weirdness."

"I am who I am. Though, I prefer to be called nerd, not dork."

"What's the difference?" Her lips curved upwards into a smile. She slumped her shoulders after not finding an answer. "Seriously, what's the difference?"

"Um, well, a nerd is intelligence, innovative, and, uh, a dork is clumsy and foolish."

Seeing Jackie staring at him aimlessly, uncaring, he decided her question was rhetorical. Still, he was not a dork, or was he? Okay, he was both a dork and a nerd, but Jackie knew that already. Half-drunk Jackie, not so much.

"Oh, and Eric, you're a horrible judge of character." Her voice lost all of the drunk and playfulness in it. "Seriously, you need to work on your game. But you're cute, though, when you're nervous. I like it."

"Whadya mean?" Eric asked as he walked her home. "I wasn't nervous. I was just playing along with you." _So, she wasn't drunk, not even half-drunk?_

He doubted that. She was too nice to him when they started to hang out, and they always met at a bar. Drinking and talking. They never got along before, so alcohol had something to do with this, whatever, kind of friendship thing they had going on. Yet, he didn't care. Talking with Jackie was now the most enjoyable part of his day. Strange as it was, she brightened his day up, whether she intended to or not.

"Eric," she began seriously, carefully constructing her words into something meaningful, but after not reaching to that level, she gave up. "What's wrong? You seem lost. Everything okay?"

"Everything's peachy. Just remising about work."

Jackie raised an eyebrow. "You hate your job at the dry-cleaner."

"Yes, but there's always something interesting at work."

"Eric, you know, I meant what I said. You're hot for a dork, nerd, whatever you call yourself."

He chucked nervously. "Yeah, and you're a bowl of hotness trapped in a, yeah, I got nothing."

She stepped closer to him and slipped her hands under his, not letting go of him when she felt him trying to let go. "Eric, goddamit, come out and say it, already! I've been spending the last couple months with you. Yeah, Eric, I know. Just ask me out already."

"Huh? What're you talking about?"

She sighed. "Eric, you're an adorable mess. C'mon, you won't know my answer until you ask. So?"

He glanced at her back and forth. His throat felt awfully dry and his chest felt too tight, almost closing in, making it hard for him to breathe. "Jackie, I, uh, I … hey, we're here already."

"God, you're too awkward. Seriously, have you always been this awkward, or did the breakup with Donna made you so awkward? That's what happens when you've been with only one person in your entire life."

"I've been with other girls than Donna."

He had been in other relationships; they just weren't as successful as his and Donna's.

"Eric, well, I'm going in. Got anything to ask me?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "C'mon, lover boy, out with it. Can't leave a girl hanging."

"You're not gonna stop bothering me until I say it?" He decided to give in. What difference did it make? He liked Jackie, heck, he found her attractive. "Can I buy you dinner sometime?"

Jackie looked at him and motioned for him to come closer. "Come here and I'll tell you my answer," she added suggestively and winked.

Unsure what to do, Eric found himself being dragged to where she stood.

"Closer," she whispered, "closer, Eric, _closer, closer_."

Jackie then wrapped a hand around his waist, pulling him closer to her until her breast was pressed against his chest, and crashed her lips onto his. A short and sweet kiss.

"Pick me up at eight tomorrow," she let out, touching his hand," and Eric, please, don't wear that shirt on our date. And don't take me to another bar."

Starved for touch, he was, and he found it in Jackie Burkhart, but he hoped it will result into something extra special and real.


End file.
